


We're Family

by hunenka



Series: Together [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Season/Series 08-09 Hiatus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunenka/pseuds/hunenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the Men of Letters bunker, post <i>Sacrifice.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Family

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially ~~provoked~~ inspired by the SPN Panel at SDCC, because all that talk about Cas being “a tool” pissed me off. I realize this will get Jossed as soon as Season 9 starts airing, but I don’t care.

****It’s several days after the Great Angel Meteor Shower, and nothing much has changed.

They’ve had to go back to the church to pick up Crowley first; then they return to the bunker to a very scared, very nervous Kevin with a crossbow and bad aim. Dean is thankful for small mercies.

 

*

The days are slow and uneventful, spent mostly in the bunker… no, not hiding, just… monitoring the situation and making plans. No point in doing something reckless, right?

Crowley is locked up in the basement, hopefully stewing in his own fears and loneliness.

Sam is in bed, fighting off Dean’s attempts at taking care of him and secretly sneaking out to the library to do research. Well, not so secretly, but Dean lets it slip, relieved that his brother is slowly but undoubtedly getting better.

Kevin spends most of the time in the library, buried under piles of manuscripts, scrolls, journals and all kinds of papers that Dean has no name for. So far, the kid hasn’t found anything useful on reopening the gates of Heaven or helping fallen angels. No surprise there.

 

*

Then there is Castiel, who alternates between broodingly doing nothing and trying to learn everything – from cooking, doing laundry or cleaning to handling weapons and fighting in hand-to-hand combat. Dean still isn’t sure which of the two is more frustrating, but he knows that whatever Castiel is (not) doing at the moment, it stems from the ex-angel’s new insecurity and sense of uselessness.

And that is something Dean has to fix.

 

*

He finds Cas in the shooting range, grappling with a Beretta. His aim is getting better, though.

Dean approaches the man, consciously making as much noise as possible in order to caution him of his presence in advance. Cas is kind of jumpy lately.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greets him, and when he gets no reaction, carries on, “How long have you been here?” Still no response, but judging by the holes in the practice targets, it’s been a long time. “You’re better than Sam was a couple days ago,” Dean offers, but Castiel remains silent, all attention concentrated on the gun in his hand and the target before him.

Okay. He doesn’t want to be disturbed. Dean can live with that.

He leaves, but he can’t really come up with anything useful to do, so he goes to fix Cas some dinner – the ex-angel is still forgetting that he has to eat regularly. It’s nothing fancy, just scrambled eggs with bacon, but it’s warm and it tastes okay, so Dean puts the food on a tray and goes back to the shooting range, where Cas keeps on ignoring him.

“You should eat,” Dean tells him, feeling a bit like an overly attentive mother from some TV show, and places the tray on the ground near Cas. “The sooner the better. It’s just not the same when it’s cold.”

The infuriating bastard still ignores him, so Dean leaves again, goes back to the kitchen, and what the Hell, makes more food for Sam and Kevin. He really kind of is becoming the mother hen of this little group, but somehow it doesn’t actually feel that weird. It’s like he’s been doing this since forever (and he actually _has_ , with Sam).

Sam is grateful for the dinner, even says “Thanks” (something Cas hasn’t learned yet, apparently).

Kevin is distrustful of it, eyeing Dean with a doubtful expression. When Dean turns away, Kevin sprinkles him with holy water. “Had to make sure it was you,” he offers by way of explanation when Dean gives him his best what-the-fuck? glare. “You’re being suspiciously nice, and Crowley’s tried this before, so…”

Dean just shrugs and ignores Sam’s poor attempts at suppressing his chuckles over the “suspiciously nice” part. Sam definitely _is_ getting better.

 

*

“Cas, would you stop with the Terminator training for a second? It’s not like you’re gonna master it all in just a couple of days, okay? You need to get some sleep, you need to eat… Cas? What did I tell you about leaving your meals unfinished?”

*

It turns out that Castiel likes to sulk. It’s like dealing with teenage Sam all over again. Minus the ridiculous long hair, and once again, Dean is grateful for small mercies.

*

On his way to the daily check on Crowley, Dean finds Kevin standing in front of the door to Crowley’s cell. He’s holding a gun in his head. He looks up when he hears Dean approaching, stands up taller, but doesn’t even try to hide the gun. “Dean.”

“You wanna tell me what this is about?” He feels he should be careful.

“I’d like to kill him.” Pretty straightforward, and Dean can appreciate that. But stil…

“No.”

Kevin shrugs. “Then at least wound him. Painfully. More than once.”

“Tempting, but no. We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

The kid’s expression gets angry. “Come on, you spent ten years torturing souls in Hell!”

That’s low. Dean doesn’t know what to say at first; then decides for the truth. “And it still haunts me every night, every time I close my eyes, okay? You don’t do that to yourself.”

Kevin lowers his head, shoulders sagging. The fight is leaving him, thank God. “But he killed mom,” he says softly, voice shaking. “He killed my mom and I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there, should’ve saved her, should’ve…”

Dean gently takes the gun from Kevin’s hand and clicks the safety on. “Even if you’d been with her, Crowley still would’ve killed her. I know this hurts like Hell, but you’ve gotta know staying away from her was the best thing you could’ve done. People like us, it’s better to keep the ones you love at a safe distance.”

Kevin’s eyes are glinting with unshed tears. “The two people you love the most are right here, with you.”

“And look what it’s done to them!” He has to use all of his willpower just so he doesn’t scream. “They both died, and no, not just once,” he lets out a bitter laugh. “Sam nearly died just a few days ago. Cas lost his Grace. All they get is pain and death.”

“But they’re still here,” Kevin says in a small voice and the tears finally start to fall.

Dean feels like a dick immediately. He pulls the kid into a hug, holding him as he cries into his jacket, and wonders whether all this will ever end.

 

*

Dean’s already tried every gesture of comfort and support he knows of to make Cas feel better.

He got him new, comfortable, hunting-appropriate clothes.

He offered him his pie, which Cas accepted with reverence as if it was a sacrament. (Which… well…)

He bought him the newest copy of _Busty Asian Beauties_ , which made for a confusing and somewhat awkward conversation.

He brought him beer and whisky and altar wine that he’s stolen from the nearest church (just on the off-chance that drinking Christ’s blood might cheer Cas up… which it didn’t.).

Castiel is still sulking and he is still miserable.

Apparently gestures aren’t doing it for him. Cas needs words. Only Dean isn’t good with words at all; mostly the things that come out of his mouth are miles far from what he’d been intending to say. Something always goes wrong when he tries to talk.

He needs some advice.

 

*

“Hey… Sam?”

Sam looks up from the book he’s studying, looking a bit surprised to see Dean. His reflexes obviously aren’t back on 100 per cent yet, Dean notes absently. “Yeah?”

Dean offers his brother a beer, pulls up a chair, sits down and takes a long swing from his own bottle. He doesn’t even know how to start. Great.

Sam nudges him in the shoulder. “Dude. Are we gonna talk or what?”

“Talk about what?

“About Cas,” Sam offers knowingly.

“Am I that obvious?”

Sam shrugs. “Kinda. And, of course, he’s not doing very well himself.”

Dean looks down, hanging his head. Right. He’s failed Cas… again.

Sam’s hand is on Dean’s shoulder again. “Hey! I’m not saying it’s your fault or anything!”

Dean snorts, drinks more beer, then looks Sam in the eye. “What am I supposed to do? The guy’s so lost. I need to help him, do something…”

Sam has his psychoanalyst face on, the one that says ‘I’m listening,’ the one he uses when inquiring people about their cases. “He’s lost his Grace, you can’t expect him to just be okay about it.”

“I get that. It’s just… I wish I could help.”

Nodding, Sam starts on his beer, silent for a while. Then, “He needs to know that he’s still valuable. As a person, I mean. That he’s not just a tool that got broken and now is useless.”

Dean’s face scrunches in a frown, because, what the fuck? “What? That’s what this is about?”

“Most of it yeah, I think so,” Sam says in a ‘Duh’ tone.

Dean feels himself get worked up. “But that’s bullshit! He’s never been just a tool! Doesn’t he realize he’s our friend? He’s family. I don’t care that he’s lost his powers; I just want him to be okay. Fucking stupid angel.”

Sam is grinning at him. He’s trying to hide it, but Dean knows his brother. “See? Tell him that. Only use nicer words, maybe.”

“Can’t _you_ tell him?”

“No.”

“Why not? You’re better with this…” Dean waves his hand around vaguely, “chick flick stuff.”

“No. You need to tell him yourself.” Sam is giving him the stern, authoritative look now, the one he uses when questioning suspects, and damn him, it’s working on Dean. “He needs to hear it from you.”

Dean frowns at that. “Why me?”

Sam shakes his head, a small, slightly incredulous smile on his lips. “Come on, Dean. You _know_ why.”

Dean does know.

They finish their beers in silence.

Dean gets up and starts to leave the room, then stops to look back at his brother. “Sam? You know how important you are to me, right?”

Sam gives him a warm smile. “I know, Dean.”

 

*

Dean finds Castiel in his room, sitting on the bed, staring at the white wall. He looks so miserable it breaks Dean’s heart, but it also gives him resolve. He’ll do anything to fix this. To fix Cas.

He knocks on the doorframe. “Cas? Can I come in?”

Castiel turns his head slowly, then nods. He’s not exactly making it easy.

Dean enters the room, closes the door behind him and walks over to sit beside Cas on the bed. There’s some space between them, but probably not as much as it should be. Not that personal space has ever been an issue with them.

“When I found you, after you fell…” Dean starts out slowly, scared of screwing it up.

Castiel looks at him with a question in those blue eyes. “Yes?”

What the Hell. “It was one of the happiest moments in my life,” Dean admits and it feels damn good to say it aloud. “I was so scared I’d lost you again.”

“I am not of much use now,” Castiel grumbles gruffly, and he’s staring at the stupid wall again. “There is no reason for you to be happy to see me.”

Okay, that’s it. Dean’s patience is gone just like that. He grabs the man next to him by his shoulders, making him turn and look at him, holding his gaze. “Don’t you _ever_ say that again!”

Castiel’s eyes are wide, whether with shock or fear, Dean can’t tell. But his tone is still flat. “Why?”

Dean takes a breath, relaxes his grip on Castiel’s shoulders slightly, but doesn’t let go. He’ll never let go. “Because you’re important to me. _You_. Not the teleporting, smiting and wound-healing angel Cas. You.”

Castiel is silent.

Dean needs to work harder. He’s obviously not going to avoid some chick flick stuff anyway, so there’s no reason not to go for it head-on. He pulls out his big card. “I still pray to you, Cas. Every night.”

Castiel looks truly taken aback now. “Why? I cannot even hear your prayers, let alone answer them.”

The answer is easy. “Because I have faith in you. And the thing I’ve learned about faith is… Faith doesn’t need proof. Faith doesn’t need results, or miracles. It’s just there. And when it comes to you, I still have it.”

“Why?” Cas asks again, and just maybe, there’s a tiny note of hope in his voice.

“I don’t know why,” Dean answers frankly, and then continues quickly to make himself clear. “I don’t know what is it about you that makes you so special. Why I feel so much better when I’m with you. When I can see you, hear you… touch you,” he runs one hand up to Castiel’s face, resting it against his scruffy cheek. “I don’t know what it is that makes people fall in love.”

There. He said it.

Cas jerks at those words, stares at Dean in disbelief, speechless.

The silence stretches between them, and they stare at each other, motionless, one of Dean’s hands still on Castiel’s shoulder, the other one on his cheek. Dean realizes he’s holding his breath, afraid of Castiel’s reaction.

Then Cas smiles, truly _smiles_ , and the huge iceberg in Dean’s heart melts immediately, relief flooding over him as Castiel leans into his touch.

Castiel is still smiling when he kisses him, and to Dean, this feels like Heaven.

 

*

Neither Sam or Kevin make any comment on Dean and Cas, acting as if nothing’s changed, as if the way they are always close, their shoulders always brushing, their eyes always finding each other, is the most normal thing in the world.

*

Cas still sulks and broods, but the intervals are longer, so Dean takes it as a victory.

*

“This is hopeless,” Dean mutters and puts down the book he’s been reading for the past few hours.

Sam, Cas and Kevin, who sit around the table in the library, all give him blank, empty stares. They’ve been going through all their resources for days and still they found nothing.

“Maybe we should buy the stairway to Heaven,” Dean suggests, earning himself an eye roll from Sam who’s already heard the joke too many times, an amused half-smile from Kevin who obviously doesn’t find it that funny either, and a long lecture from Cas.

Dean stands up. “Okay, that’s enough. We could all use a break. And you,” he points at Cas, “need a lesson in rock music.”

 

*

They’re in the training room, all four of them. Kevin and Cas are learning how to fight monsters in hand-to-hand combat.

Today’s lesson is vampires.

Dean plays the role of the vamp, teaching them to go after the head, to avoid the teeth. He tells and shows them all he knows, and that’s a lot of stuff. Stuff that he remembers from his short time of being a vampire. Stuff that Benny told him. Stuff that he’s learned the hard way in the 24/7 combat zone of Purgatory.

Even Sam looks interested and impressed.

After the theoretical part comes the practical. Kevin is fast, which is good, but he’s still driven by anger, which is bad. He takes Dean’s advice to heart, though, and that’s what’s important.

When it’s Castiel’s turn, Cas fights more mechanically, analytically, obviously trying to remember everything Dean told him. But he’s thinking too much and he isn’t using his instincts. It doesn’t take long until Dean has his arms locked around Cas’s body, holding him from behind, immobilizing him effectively.

“You’re dead,” he tells him and bites him in the neck playfully. Cas lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a moan and presses back into Dean. “Um… dude, you realize that’s not how you react to being bitten by a vampire, right?”

He hears a chuckle from the corner of the room where Sam and Kevin are standing.

“You’re like Edward to Cas’s Bella,” Sam comments and both him and Kevin burst out laughing.

“Shut up.”

 

*

“As an angel, I saw into people,” Cas says all of a sudden, from where he’s sitting next to Dean on the Impala’s hood as they watch the stars.

Dean realizes this is the beginning of another “I’m useless” fit, but he’s getting used to those. It’s kind of the same like girls and their endless litanies of “I’m fat and ugly”. Even if there’s not an ounce of truth to it, they still believe it. All you can do is tell them they’re wrong over and over again and hope that one day they they’ll believe you.

“I could see into people’s souls,” Cas goes on. “I knew what they thought, how they felt. It was like reading an open book. Now it’s all gone and the world doesn’t speak to me the way it used to. Now it even speaks more to you than it does to me.”

That has to suck, Dean can understand that. “You’re gonna learn to read people the human way, Cas. It’s not that difficult.”

“It seems difficult.” Castiel is pouting. It’s adorable.

“You’re gonna get the hang of it soon enough. And if you’re not sure about something… that’s what talking’s for, right?”

Castiel gives him a pointed look.

Dean laughs and raises his hands in defense. “Okay, I know, I’m not the best guy when it comes to talking about my feelings. But I swear to you, Cas. Anything you ask, I’ll answer.”

Cas asks a lot. Dean keeps his word.

 

*

Castiel’s bouts of feeling useless gradually start receding when he sees how much he still brings to the table. He’s like a walking encyclopedia of info on angels, demons, ancient rituals, dead languages, even languages no one’s ever heard of before.

And he’s learned to bake pie. It can’t get much better than that.

 

*

A few days later, Dean and Sam head out into the nearest town for supplies. Dean has some special stuff on his shopping list, so he gives Sam the Impala and tells him to return on his own.

Dean gets back about half an hour after Sam, in another car. As he gets out, he sees the bunker’s door swing open and Castiel is running towards him, looking really scared. And pissed.

“Where were you?” He demands, running his hands all over Dean, probably to check for injuries. “Why didn’t you return with Sam?”

Dean laughs and lets Castiel touch him until the fallen angel is sure that nothing’s happened to him. “I wanted to find another car. I nicked it,” he explains proudly.

Castiel gives the said car a mistrustful look. “Why?” It seems to be his favorite word lately.

“So I could teach you how to drive.” Dean grins at him and gives him a quick kiss. “Come on, did you really think I’d let you touch my baby before I was sure you wouldn’t hurt her?”

“I would never hurt anything that’s yours,” Castiel says solemnly, making Dean laugh again.

“I know.” He takes Castiel’s hand and pulls him toward the car, an old Ford Cortina. “Let’s do this.”

They start out slow. Cas is attentive as always and he concentrates on what he’s doing hard, sometimes sticking out the tip of his tongue unconsciously, which makes it very hard for _Dean_ to concentrate.

It doesn’t even take long before Cas gets it. That day Dean gives him the keys to the Impala – the final show of trust, and Cas doesn’t let him down.

 

*

That night, they make love for the first time.

Dean gives Cas full control, wants him to feel safe and comfortable, needs him to do this because _he_ wants to do this, not because Dean wants him to.

When Cas enters him, it’s incredibly slow and careful, but it still hurts some. It doesn’t matter, though, because Dean wants _more_ , more of this, more of _Cas_ , and Cas obliges happily.

Dean can tell the moment when Cas lets go, when all those constant worries and all the damn guilt is momentarily forgotten and Castiel really starts to enjoy himself. His hands on Dean get bolder, his movements get faster and more erratic, and then suddenly he goes _wild_. He’s such a beautiful sight – skin flushed and sweat-slicked, hair mussed up, lips kiss-swollen and red, body taut – and Dean _loses_ it, shattering into a million pieces with a hoarse cry.

Cas smiles at that, self-satisfied and cocky, and follows Dean soon after.

Dean pulls him down to kiss him, holds him tight, heartbeat against heartbeat. “Wouldn’t change this for the world,” he tells his lover, and this time he’s sure that Cas believes him.

 

*

The next morning, they pack their bags and set out on the road again, all four of them, because there’s all this mess with fallen angels and hordes of demons roaming the Earth that has to be fixed.

They’ve got work to do.

 

END


End file.
